Red Phoenix Burning (36 page)

Lieutenant Sontez, the OOD for general quarters, asked, “Do you think they’ll let us get close enough to shoot?”

Mitchell laughed. “They won’t waste any missiles on us. Those destroyers each have an automatic 130mm gun forward. Effective range is thirteen miles. Since our 57’s and the Hellfires’ ranges are about half that, they have a six-mile margin. But they’ll be shooting at a fast, sharply maneuvering target.”

Petty Officer Booth added, “Skipper, I understand that we’re a speed bump, but I would like to get some hits in before we’re gone.”

Mitchell said, “Right now, the admiral running that formation is rereading his rules of engagement. We know the Chinese are willing to engage Korean units. Without us here, they’d sail right in and land their troops and raise all kinds of hell. But if we say ‘halt,’ then the admiral’s got to decide if sinking us is covered in his orders. It’s even money he’s been on the phone to his fleet commander. I just wish I could have listened in.”

Sontez reported, “Sir, the lead ship is ten miles from the line.”

“And twelve miles from us,” Mitchell responded. “Evidently they’re not ready to shoot us outright. Well, it’s time to see what they have in mind.” He picked up the microphone for the bridge-to-bridge radio. “Chinese formation, this is USS
Gabrielle Giffords
. State your intentions.”

There was no immediate reply. Mitchell was expecting that. He pressed the intercom. “ICC1, tell me when they are
exactly
five miles from the CTML.”

He could do the math. The three-minute rule meant that at twenty-two knots, they’d cover twenty-two hundred yards, just over a nautical mile. Subtracting that from ten nautical miles . . .

It kept his mind occupied, and he was only a minute off when ICC1 announced over the intercom. “Five miles, Skipper.”

He keyed the radio mike again. “Chinese formation, this is USS
Gabrielle Giffords
. If you enter Korean territorial waters, I will fire on you.” Mitchell repeated it, then changed frequencies, and repeated it again. Not that it wasn’t obvious.

He checked the bow gun’s display. It had an EO tracker, and it was centered on the bow of the lead destroyer. Even at several miles, it seemed to dwarf the smaller US ship.

Sontez announced, “Three miles.” After the captain acknowledged his report, the lieutenant stated flatly, “If they shoot, we’re dead. If we shoot, we’re dead.”

“A strong argument in favor of nobody shooting,” Mitchell confirmed. “But we aren’t going to let them push us around.”

“They’re at the twelve-mile limit, Captain.” Sontez’s report had a hint of resignation.

“Understood, OOD,” Mitchell replied. The resignation was echoed in Mitchell’s acknowledgment, but his orders were crystal clear. “All hands, stand by to engage the lead Chinese destroyer, bearing two three zero degrees, two eight hundred yards. Helm, come left to 225 degrees, all ahead . . .”

“Sir, they’re turning.” Even as Sontez announced the turn, Mitchell could see it on the monitor. The lead destroyer was no longer showing only its bow, but its starboard side. He used his glasses to check the other ships. They were all turning.

“Belay that order, Lieutenant! Come right to two five zero at fifteen knots. We’ll stay on our side of the line and match their speed and course.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Sontez couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice, and there were a few muted cheers from the watchstanders in ICC1 behind them. Captain Mitchell just kept the glasses raised, silently watching the Chinese do exactly what he’d bet on. They could still sink
Gabby
anytime they wanted, but it looked like they didn’t want to.

6 September 2015, 0400 local time

Seventh Air Force Headquarters

Osan Air Base, South Korea

“This time it was five missiles, Tony. Five!” General Randall Carter and his deputy were watching the stateside reaction to the latest North Korean missile launch. As focused as the newspeople were on the loss of life, they really hadn’t absorbed all the implications.

“It was probably every Musudan they had,” Tony commented. “It’s a big step forward, considering eight days ago, they fired one missile and missed completely.”

“It seems they finished reading the owner’s manual,” Carter replied darkly.

The flat-screen on the wall of Tony’s office showed the CNN feed. The banner across the bottom read “Breaking News: Lethal chemicals in warhead strike Guam”; the shaky image showed figures in bright yellow protective suits working with chemical detection kits. At MTV-like speed, the picture shifted to a roped-off wooded hillside, then plastic tents set up outside a hospital.

The on-screen anchor reported, “The chemical agent is still being identified, but it is some form of persistent nerve gas, which is making it very hard to decontaminate the victims. There have only been a few cases requiring treatment, though. Most victims die within minutes from asphyxiation.”

“I haven’t heard them say how big the affected area is,” Carter observed.

“Acres right now,” Tony answered. “But it’s spreading downwind. The only break we got was that one missile hit Apra Harbor dead center and landed in the water, and the other one a mile away in a park.”

“And the battery on Guam shot two down,” Carter added. “That gives the bad guys a forty percent success rate, counting the one that broke up in flight.”

“But why the sub base at Guam?” Tony asked, secretly glad they weren’t trying to decontaminate Osan or Kunsan. “As a military target, US Navy subs aren’t their greatest threat.”

“They’re demonstrating range and striking power,” the general answered quickly. “They would have hit Pearl if they could, but two thousand miles is probably the best the Musudan could do.” It was supposedly a modified copy of a Russian SS-N-6 sub-launched ballistic missile, but nobody had hard data on its performance, it had never flown before, until now. It could carry explosive, chemical, or even nuclear warheads.

General Carter explained, “Before I came to watch the TV with you, I spoke to my counterpart in Seoul. The Korean government is going nuts, which means Washington will go nuts. Tokyo and Beijing will climb onto the bandwagon, too. And I think they’re justified. What’s left of the North Korean regime just demonstrated the ability to launch five long-range missiles simultaneously, armed with WMDs. It’s likely they have more missiles, possibly with even longer ranges, assuming the KN-08 is real, and we know the South Koreans haven’t been able to find a single nuke.”

“Do you think the Kim faction will try to bargain now?” Tony asked. “Use the threat of more attacks to make a deal?”

Carter shook his head. “Unlikely. They would have already claimed this attack as a ‘demonstration.’ There’s been nothing. Besides, the South—excuse me, the ‘United Han Republic’—would never accept it.”

“Then what’s the Kim faction’s goal?”

Carter laughed, but he wore a grim smile. “Who do you think is driving that nut wagon?”

Chapter 19 - Reality Check

6 September 2015, 11:00 a.m. local time

August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound

Beijing, People’s Republic of China

The translator had added a scrolling banner to the CNN image. The Mandarin characters carried either the dialogue or translated other relevant English text displayed on the screen.

They watched the Western broadcast in silence. “They were very fortunate it landed in a park,” the air force commander commented. His remark wasn’t directed to anyone in particular, but several of the CMC members nodded their agreement. Although only a few of the ministers could speak English, they were all still absorbing the news and understanding the implications for China.

President Wen abruptly entered the conference room and they all stood. Several latecomers followed him. Wen’s summons had been simply to meet “as soon as possible.”

Wen hurriedly gestured, and as they sat, he asked the defense minister, “Have they said anything new? How many dead?”

“It’s up to twenty-seven so far, all from exposure to a chemical agent. Some were first responders who came looking for casualties, and became victims instead.”

The Second Bureau minister reported, “My specialists say it was probably VX, a persistent nerve gas. The DPRK manufactured large quantities of it. It is colorless, odorless, and can’t be detected without specialized equipment. Inhalation causes almost immediate respiratory failure, as well as convulsions. We know they used both Sarin and VX in the fighting around Pyongyang.”

“Horrible. Pointless.” Wen shook his head sadly, stopped, and then straightened up in his chair. Addressing the entire group, he said, “With hindsight, Defense Minister Yu’s concerns now look more like predictions. Judging from your expressions, I think everyone is as horrified as I am. What’s left of the DPRK, concealed in their mountain fortress, is still very much a danger to anyone within their reach. Our army’s failure to force a river crossing earlier today only heightens the danger we face. Is the army commander still in transit?”

General Yu answered, “Yes, Comrade Chairman. In his absence, I’ve arranged a video conference with General Shi, who commanded the assault this morning.”

Wen nodded, and within moments, the CNN broadcast was replaced by a man in his early fifties with a weathered, square face in digital camouflage fatigues. He didn’t stand, but sitting straight up, said, “General Shi Yushang, commanding the Southeast Security Force.” He was inside a command vehicle, and while the video image was sharp, they had problems hearing the general over the background noise. An aide turned off several fans, and the sound quality dramatically improved.

General Shi sounded positive, although the news wasn’t good. “My units have regrouped and I can resume the attack tomorrow morning.”

“You’d been warned about the risk of chemical weapons, General. Why weren’t you properly prepared?” The chief of the Second Bureau sounded angry, but General Shi didn’t seem to notice.

“There were not enough protective suits for my entire force, and we prioritized the frontline units that were taking part in the assault, along with the combat engineers laying the bridges.”

“And instead, they concentrated on your artillery,” the defense minister concluded.

“DPRK counter-battery fire was accurate, and its effects were increased by the mix of chemical and explosive shells.” The general paused to rub his face. He looked tired, but that was to be expected. Wen knew he would have been organizing a dawn attack since the small hours. “The holdouts didn’t ignore my assault troops. They dropped just enough chemical shells there to force them to keep wearing the protective suits. And in spite of all our training and preparations, I’ve still got just as many casualties from heatstroke as I do from enemy fire.”

“And more from chemical weapons than bullets,” President Wen added. “What are your casualties?”

Shi scowled. “Approaching ten percent in the assault units, and over eighty percent in some of the artillery batteries. And I can’t just bring in new personnel. The artillery pieces themselves have to be decontaminated. New artillery units have been ordered in, but they won’t arrive until after dark at the earliest, and they’ll have to set up . . .”

Defense Minister Yu, a general himself, asked, “What kind of attack will you make this time?”

“Early tomorrow morning we will focus on a very narrow front, if the air force can help us out. I will bring up more artillery, but I’ll be firing at extreme range, which means it will be less accurate. And they’ve wrecked the pontoon bridges we did manage to lay, so I’ll have to use the reserve equipment, hence the narrow front.”

President Wen said, “Thank you, General Shi. Your service to China is an example to us all.” They cut the connection, and the president turned to the PLAAF chief of staff. “I assume you’re fulfilling his request.”

The general scowled. “We are sending him everything he’s asked for, but my specialists have their doubts. Aircraft aren’t always a good substitute for artillery, and not only do the DPRK forces have excellent antiaircraft defenses, but evidently the targets we are supposed to hit are virtually encased in concrete and rock. We will have to use penetrating precision-guided ordnance, and our stocks are not unlimited.” The general smiled. “It’s ironic that for many of these targets, the best option would be a chemical warhead.”

“But you will be able to do it,” Wen persisted.

“We will have to use war reserve stocks, but we will do it. The cost will be high, though.”

“Compared to the cost of losing even a single city to a nuclear weapon?” the defense minister asked sharply. Turning to Wen, he added, “General Shu is organizing the delivery of more equipment to General Shi, but the earliest any of it can get to him is very late today, or very early tomorrow. If everything goes smoothly.”

Wen nodded his understanding. “And in war, things rarely go smoothly. Minister Yu, I’m going to ask a question, not because I think it’s the best solution, but because we can’t afford to overlook any possibility.”

Yu answered guardedly, “Yes, Comrade Chairman.”

“Could the DPRK holdouts and their nuclear weapons be quickly eliminated by several small nuclear weapons?” The senior officers present all looked aghast at the suggestion. Wen had expected their reaction, and quickly continued, “The area is sparsely settled, held by a group now almost universally despised, and possesses weapons of mass destruction that they have already used freely. We could make a strong case that the Northern holdouts pose a nuclear threat, not just to China but all of Asia and a good part of the Pacific.”

The president’s reasoning intrigued them. General Yu ordered the technicians, “Bring up the map of the holdouts’ area, with the known targets.” He and the air force minister left their chairs to study the screen, zooming the image until the features became blurs.

After several minutes of quiet conversation, the generals nodded in agreement, and Yu turned to face the group. “Small warheads won’t do the job. It would take at least nine large devices, with at least five hundred kiloton yields. Given the accuracy of even our newest missiles, and the hardening of the targets in that area, that gives us a virtual certainty of destroying or crippling all known targets.”

“Nine!” Wen exclaimed. “Is that because of the terrain?”

“Yes,” Yu confirmed. “The area is somewhat mountainous, and any storage bunkers are undoubtedly deeply buried in solid rock. The irregular landscape means even two nearby targets have to be attacked individually. And since we don’t have complete information on all the holdouts’ installations, any that are not specifically targeted will likely survive with little or no damage.”

The Second Bureau minister, in charge of intelligence, added, “My missile specialists are convinced that we still haven’t located their entire launch network.”

President Wen summarized, “And unless we target that installation directly, even with a nuclear weapon, we can’t be sure it will be destroyed.”

The minister nodded agreement. “My people have collected a lot of information, both from the sites we overran, and from South Korean and American news reports. The Kims went to astounding lengths to harden and hide their military installations. This is a case where conventional precision-guided ordnance will likely be as effective as a nuclear device,” he finished.

Wen sighed. “Then I won’t pursue this option any further—for now.” He paused for a moment, as if steeling himself, then continued. “In that case, given the increased level of the threat,” nodding toward the defense minister, “and the lack of progress by our ground forces, I believe we must consider a new strategy. Even as I summoned you all to this meeting, I received a message from the president of the United States. I will read the Mandarin version provided by the Americans, which our translators say is a faithful interpretation of their president’s text.

“To President Wen, of the People’s Republic of China: Our countries’ armed forces face each other only inches apart, in grave danger of starting a war that will benefit neither, and distracting us from the far greater hazard posed by a cruel regime’s dying struggles. I suggest that instead of fighting each other, we work together to put a swift end to the threat that endangers us all.

“I urge you also to cease your operations against South Korean forces, who are already fighting our common opponent. We will do everything in our power to encourage our ally to work with Chinese forces, as well as American military forces, for the express purpose of erasing every remaining trace of the Kims from the Korean Peninsula.

“Finally, I must remind you, President Wen, that America’s guarantee of Korea’s territorial integrity is absolute, and if China has any goal other than the removal of the threat posed by the holdouts of a disgraced dynasty, we will not hesitate to defend Korea as vigorously as we would our own homeland.”

Wen passed the message to others at the table. Some read it completely, while others barely glanced at it. Several minutes passed in silence before the Second Bureau minister said reluctantly, “It pains me to agree with any American, but he’s right. If the intervention expands beyond our stated goal, we face almost certain war with America, which could make our losses so far trivial in comparison.”

They all knew he was referring to Scarborough Shoal, now firmly under the Philippines’ control, its security guaranteed by the Americans. China could win on the Korean Peninsula and still suffer.

Several heads nodded, and the president asked, “Then how shall we proceed?”

6 September 2015, 1100 local time

Gyeonggi Military Camp

Outside Paju, South Korea

“He’s got to be the oldest private I’ve ever seen,” Cho asserted.

“I don’t disbelieve you,” Kary insisted. “I just don’t know enough to agree or disagree.”

They were standing outside the headquarters tent, located near the front gate of the Gyeonggi Military Camp.

Kary Fowler was now responsible for five refugee and two military camps, all holding former North Korean citizens. The Korean army ran all the camps, but was more than willing to let her minister to the needs of their residents. Even the military camps filled with ex-KPA soldiers came under her purview, since there was no longer an army for them to be soldiers of, and they had many of the same needs as the civilians. Beyond basic necessities like food and shelter, they usually needed at least some medical attention. There was an amazing demand for dentists. She’d arranged for many of the same classes to be taught as well, since the DPRK army’s worldview was even more skewed than the civilians.

Using a helicopter provided by the ROK Army, and with Cho as her escort, she toured one or two camps every few days, being seen and dealing with problems that could only be solved in person.

Kary always walked through the camp first, accompanied by Cho, who wore army fatigues with a sergeant’s rank insignia. Then, while Kary met with the camp’s officials, Cho wandered about, listening and watching without the distraction of civilian higher-ups.

The military camps held a mixture of DPRK soldiers that had surrendered to South Korean troops or had been wounded and captured in a fight, army deserters that had reached the South or been found and collected in Northern territory, and in a few cases, entire units that had surrendered without a fight, after negotiations with the advancing Southerners.

Any soldier who wished was given a chance to serve, under General Tae, in the new United Han Army. While a fair number had done so, many did not.

Because national service was mandatory under the Kim regime, for many this was the first choice they had ever been allowed to make. With better food than they ever had before, and no longer being shot at, the camp seemed like a great place to be. They still lived under military discipline, including calisthenics, and that’s where Cho first noticed him.

The man was in the rear rank of four, falling behind during jumping jacks, and failing completely at push-ups. While Cho had seen few DPRK soldiers that he could call impressive physical specimens, the rest of the group was performing satisfactorily.

The soldier’s physical incompetence was almost comical, and Cho had moved closer, intending to see if he was sick or somehow injured. The first detail he noticed was the man’s age, easily in his early forties. The second was his rank—a private? That didn’t make much sense. Then he noticed the insignia on the shoulder of his fatigues. It marked the wearer as a member of a Light Infantry unit, one of the many former DPRK’s special operations forces. Whoever he was, that man was not a special operations soldier.

After the exercises ended and the formation was dismissed, the corporal leading the calisthenics had taken care to inform Private Chun Ho-park that he was “a disgrace to not only both Koreas, but your Han heritage, and how did he . . .”

Cho had other questions. Why was this person attempting, and rather poorly, to disguise himself as a soldier? It was easy to imagine someone using the chaos of a civil war to lose himself—to change identity and make a fresh start somewhere else. There were many in the North who wanted to leave behind an inconvenient, or perhaps criminal past. Who had this person been before he chose to be a very bad soldier? A party official? Cho was certain he was probably running from something more serious than an unhappy marriage.